


Collide

by OnlyInAutumn



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pining, Smut, The Night's Watch members, Winterfell, jon pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyInAutumn/pseuds/OnlyInAutumn
Summary: After Robert’s Rebellion, Daenerys fled to Essos, only to return five years later to be raised in Winterfell. Jon and Daenerys form a bond that tests his willingness to be a part of the Night’s Watch. Set in 1x01 during the feast and continues on from there. A three part series.





	1. Winterfell

Benjen and Tyrion had both disappeared into the castle and Jon was alone once again in the courtyard. He had been taking his frustration out with a sword on the torso shaped sack filled with something forgiving. In the corner of his eye, he spotted another figure as he hacked away in an unskilled manner, coming to an abrupt stop. Jon turned, ready to tell whoever it was to keep moving, only to have his anger fade away at the sight of Daenerys.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he told her, voice low and dull. It was no surprise she had strayed away from inside. In truth, he was used to her rebelling against what she was told to do. “You should be in there enjoying yourself.”

Daenerys shrugged and placed her head against the stone wall. “You’re not.”

“Lady Stark didn’t feel as if it would be appropriate,” Jon explained, trying not to let any of the disappointment or hurt show through. “You’d think I would be used to being shoved away at any given chance, but even after all the years that have passed, the feeling of being an outsider in foreign lands never fades.”

He smiled at her, though it was not a true smile, and dropped his gaze to the muddy grounds. Jon propped the sword he was using up against a wooden post, then leaned his back into it.

“I know how that feels too,” she pointed out, removing her head from the wall, walking towards him. “At least you’re surrounded by your family who loves you. All of mine are dead.”

The somber mood soured into something worse as she finished that sentence. Perhaps Jon had been seeing it wrong all along. He _was_ surrounded with half siblings and a father in their ancestral home. Daenerys didn’t have that. The mad king had been butchered, her mother died shortly after childbirth, and her brother had died in Essos from an illness and lack of care. All she had was that ring on her finger that was once her mother’s, one that she never took off. Even then, she was fiddling with the metal.

“They love you also,” he told her, trying to make it all seem better than it really was. “Sansa looks up to you, you’re an older sister to her. She would much rather have you around than me.”

Jon thought about all the looks of disapproval Sansa had shot at him over the years. He hoped that one day she would not hate him as her mother did.

Wishful thinking.

“Well, I think Arya would prefer you over me,” added Dany, finally coming to a stop in front of him, at an arm’s length distance. “If you want to try and play the game of who has it worse, we can do this all night.”

Jon relented. “Fine. We’re even.”

“Hardly, but I’ll take it for now.”

An explosion of laughter came from inside the castle, capturing both of their attention. “You sure you don’t want to go back in?”

Daenerys bit down on her lip. “I never went at all. Everyone will just stare at me, that poor Targaryen girl, forced to eat with the family that murdered her mad father and stole the crown.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I’d rather scrub all the floors of the castle every minute of every day for the rest of my life than be within sight of that old, scruffy looking pig.”

Jon couldn’t hold in the laugh that boiled to the surface. “Not a very nice way to describe the king,” Jon teased her.

“Screw the king,” she exclaimed, a bit too loud.

Jon glanced around, but there was no one in sight. “Better keep your voice down,” he whispered. He was paranoid that someone might have heard so he waved at her as he turned to walk away, picking up the sword once again. “Come on.”

Daenerys caught up to him and she followed him side by side into the darker corners of the courtyard. Jon didn’t have any place planned or even what to talk about. He was surprised he had even initiated them continuing their time together. Why he hadn’t just dispersed from her presence was a mystery. Jon was rarely alone with Daenerys and although their conversation had gone relatively smoothly, Jon wasn’t exactly a talker and was not good at making small talk. The whole talking to girls was another aspect entirely. His brother Robb was great at it, all charm and made the girls swoon. Jon, on the other hand, was bewildered at how he did it.

Daenerys, however, proved to be a good companion. She didn’t have the need to fill the silence with empty words once they found themselves huddled under the roof of one of the structures. As they concealed themselves from the rest of the guests and inhabitants of the castle, she was content looking up at the stars at he cleaned up the sword.

Jon glanced over at her a few more times than necessary. In truth, she was quite captivating, and Jon had always felt that way about her.

He remembered when she had arrived. He had peeked over the castle walls standing on Robb’s back to get a look at the newest member of Winterfell headed towards them on horseback. She had been so young, only five when the ship docked and his father, Lord Eddard Stark, brought her into the safety of House Stark. After years of relentless begging on Ned’s part, King Robert relented and allowed her back to Westeros under the condition that she would stay in the north under their control. Jon admired that about his father, he was always willing to do the right thing.

Jon remembered being amazed at how the little girl adapted to her new surroundings. At the time, Jon didn’t understand the concept of jealousy, but quickly realized that the newcomer would also overshadow him in every way. Everyone made a fuss about her upon arrival, how pretty she was, how tiny the girl looked in Ned’s arms, and how sad it was about what happened to her mother and brother. Lady Catelyn had accepted Daenerys with ease, treating her as if she were a true daughter along Sansa, who had just been born. Jon had just watched from the sidelines, soaking it all in. It might have been the first time he partially understood what it meant to be a bastard, the boy who had to lurk in the shadows. Of course, it hadn’t been until his teenage years that he understood that being a bastard meant that Ned had strayed from Catelyn and that she would _never_ look at him the way she let herself look at Daenerys.

“Do you think about your mother?” Jon blurted out, without even thinking the words through, interrupting the silence.

Daenerys shifted her gaze to him. “Yes. Don’t you?”

“I wonder what she looked like, or _looks_ like. I don’t know if she’s dead or alive. My father never told me. I doubt he ever will.” His heart sank a bit every time he acknowledged that fact. “The wondering is the worst part.”

“She must have dark hair like you,” Daenerys pointed out. “And dark eyes and those pouty lips.”

Jon made a face. “Pouty lips? I don’t have—”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

Jon put the sword down on a wooden bench and crossed his arms over his chest. “Been staring at my lips, have you?”

That was stupid of him.

Jon’s face drained before he felt the heat rise in his cheeks as Daenerys blinked at him. He had changed the mood with that foolish comment. It had gone from a semi humorous atmosphere of their banter to an awkward and unsettling one, at least to him. Jon rubbed the back of his neck and searched for something else to say, but like usual, nothing clever came to the surface.

Dany looked as if something had just struck her in the moment, continuing on with her teasing, ignoring his previous comment after she saw the state of panic he had gone into. “Your mother must have been short too. You’re not tall like your father.”

Jon was relieved that she had redirected the conversation. He paused for a moment to look her up and down. “Look who is talking,” he challenged lifting an eyebrow. “You haven’t grown since you were Sansa’s age. You look like a delicate little flower.”

She perked up and sauntered towards him, long light blue dress catching on the mud as she walked. “I’m a girl, I don’t have to be tall,” she smirked back, bright white teeth mocking him. “The smaller, the easier to sneak around.”

“And easier to pick up as well,” he smirked. Jon ducked and grabbed her by the legs, with ease throwing her over his shoulder. What it was that had come over him in the moment to initiate such playfulness, he might never know. All he knew was that Dany was laughing as she tried to free herself, wiggling about unsuccessfully due to the grip he had on her. “What was that you were saying before about me not being tall?” Jon asked. “At least I’m strong. That counts more.”

“Put me down,” she tried to command through a giggle.

He wasn’t about to though. Jon carried her all the way through the courtyard and past the boundary of the living courters towards the thick trees that were encased among the wall that surrounded Winterfell. Jon finally let Daenerys free and she took off running, leaving her shoes behind. Jon took off after her but for someone so small, she was fast and agile. Jon stumbled among the roots and rocks several times, only placing him further behind. He had never chased a girl before, but he imagined it wouldn’t have been so difficult.

When she had disappeared behind the trees, Jon gave up and stopped to catch his breath. “Dany!” he yelled, free to as there was no one around to hear them.

There were some birds chirping in the distance as the trees swayed in the wind. It was much darker in the godswood. There were no lanterns, only the light of the moon that came down in patches through the leaves. It was peaceful out there, in a somber kind of way. How many secrets did the godswood keep? Generations of Starks had grown up in among the trees that surrounded Jon. If only they could talk and tell the tales that they had seen.

“Got you!”

She came out of nowhere just as Jon had let his guard down, descending out from behind the trees as silent as one of the castle mice that roamed the corridors in search of warmth and a few stray crumbs. Upon hearing her voice, Jon turned in time for Daenerys to throw her force into him, hands wrapped around his waist as she dragged him to the ground. They collapsed onto the somewhat damp grounds that were covered in fallen leaves and grass. Jon groaned as his back hit the ground.

“Small and sneaky, remember?” she breathed out, rolling onto her back as well.

They laid there facing the stars after a brief chuckle, the clear sky providing a dark backdrop. Dany nudged him and lifted her arm straight up to point out the comet that was streaming across the visible piece of sky they could see. It made Jon want every night to be like the one then. Nothing else mattered in the world, and the feast that was going on far from the pair had vanished out of their minds entirely.

At their sides, their hands were almost touching. Jon was very much aware of it. There was this sensation that urged him to take her hand in his, but that would be crossing a line. Wouldn’t it? He would never be sure. 

“Does a comet mean anything?” asked Daenerys.

Jon continued to stare upwards. “What do you mean?”

“Is it lucky? I don’t recall that I’ve ever seen one before. What do people say that it means around here?”

Jon thought about all the stories he had heard about the comets. Some were outrageous—like how a comet signified that death was imminent—and some were more hopeful in nature. All in all, no one really knew what the comets meant, if they did indeed have some sort of meaning (to which Jon believed it to be nothing more than something in the sky, not some bad omen, that was simply ridiculous). But Daenerys seemed so intrigued by it that Jon decided to agree with her and tell her about a common Dorne tradition that a boy from there had told him about years prior.

“Yes, I guess you could say that it’s lucky. You have to wish something and the gods might make it come true.”

Daenerys looked over at Jon and propped herself up onto her elbows, the pressure most likely resulting in a stain on her dress. “Wish something?”

“Just don’t be greedy,” he instructed carefully. “You can’t be wishing for a thousand gold coins to turn up in your room overnight.”

Daenerys’s eyes darted around as she contemplated. She let her body fall back against the ground and sighed in an exaggerated manner. “I don’t think I know what to wish for. What about you? Give me some ideas. What are some of your wishes?”

“I used to wish I wasn’t a bastard.”

The words fell out of him effortlessly, without hesitation. He was opening up to her, giving a little piece of himself to Daenerys, a little piece that he never talked about with anyone.

Daenerys tilted her head to the side and nuzzled against the grass to get a good look of Jon. “Is that why you want to go to Castle Black? I heard you talking to your uncle.”

“Eavesdropping, were you now?”

She didn’t let him get off track. “Answer my question.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You want to escape,” she murmured in a sad tone, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

Jon was too nervous to meet her eyes as he tried to let her in a little further. “It doesn’t matter who you are there,” Jon continued. “I’d still be the bastard of Winterfell, but I wouldn’t be reminded of it at every glance of Lady Stark or snide remark of Theon. I’d just be there manning the wall like all the other brothers.”

Daenerys nudged his arm. “But it’s so far away.”

Jon nodded, rolling onto his stomach and getting onto his elbows to face Dany, pulling up some grass and tossing it to the side. “Secluded away from the everyone. That’s the point.”

“Sounds dull,” she huffed, then went serious. “Don’t go.”

Jon didn’t say anything after that, especially not about him already making the decision to leave. Instead, he picked up a lock of her hair and examined the softness. Jon messed with the waves that ran down the tresses for a moment until Daenerys spoke up again.

“Sansa says I should cut it because it’s getting too long,” quietly said Dany, referring to her hair.

He was quick to interject. “Sansa is envious. You’ve got the world’s most beautiful hair, don’t cut it.”

Daenerys gave a tiny laugh. “I think that title is reserved for you,” she claimed.

Daenerys reached up and let her fingers dive into the mess of hair on top of his head, the curls twirling around her digits. Jon was frozen in place. She had never done that before and Jon found himself at her mercy, eyes slanting closed momentarily, head resting into the support of her palm against the side of his head. The embrace was comforting in a way that he had not experienced before.

“Jon,” she murmured his name, putting him further into a tranquil state.

And then he was staring at her, looking at all the little details he might have missed in all the years he was too afraid to look at her for too long—the darting gaze being a signature move. _How could anyone be so beautiful_ , he wondered to himself. And even more, how could anyone be so beautiful and be confined to the northern territory? Daenerys didn’t look like the other girls, that was certain. She had long, snowy hair that would blow gracefully in the wind, which was displayed wildly against the grass floor in the moment. Sure, she was small, but had a woman’s body—with her laying down in her position, her breasts spilled upward and the tops poked out of the neckline of her dress, as Jon had taken notice to. Her eyes were something else entirely, as if she were seeing through to his soul and what made him who he was. If Jon looked too long, he gathered he might get lost in them.

“What’s that look?”

He shifted around uncomfortably, knowing he had been caught. “What look?”

She withdrew her hand from his hair and pointed her finger at his face and waved it in a circular motion. “ _That_ look. Like you want to take me with you and stow me away in your room at Castle Black where no one can find me,” Daenerys said, a small and sly smile spreading out across her lips.

His eyes drifted to those lips, full and pink. He wanted to kiss her then, wanted to know what would happen if he were to climb on top of her and pull her dress up, wanted to do way more than that but he couldn’t allow his mind to go there. At least, not _again_ , because he was just a boy after all, and his mind wandered at night.

Jon pulled away and sat up, back facing her. He let out a silent exhale. “We should be getting back,” he muttered regretfully.

He closed his eyes, knowing all too well that the feelings stirring up inside of him would not go away.


	2. The Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! 
> 
> p.s. you can also find my jonerys blog at http://elizaduringdawn.tumblr.com/ and I'll be accepting prompts in the future.

It wasn’t all that different being at Castle Black. He made some friends out of Grenn, Pyp, Edd, and Sam despite the rocky start. Ser Allister hated his guts, but so did Lady Catelyn, so Jon was used to that. He ignored him as best he could, though sometimes it seemed to be an impossible task.

Life went forward.

Jon hadn’t taken his vows yet, none of the new boys had, as they were still in training. The waiting took too long if Jon were to be asked, but he didn’t make the rules. He would have to suffer through the delay.

It was a sunny day when the southern gates opened to welcome guests. Jon, like most, was uninformed about any arrivals. He had made his way towards the courtyard, boots loudly thudding against the wooden walkway above the area that training took place in, only to be brought to a sudden stop at the sight of the people down below and the House Stark banner. Jon could pick her out a crowd any time of any day. Her hair was loosely braided down her back, falling midway down with some shimmering silver beads looped in, sun bouncing off them. She had on a light white cloak trimmed with white furs that matched her hair, a raven black dress beneath it.

Daenerys.

Jon ducked back around the corner. She shouldn’t be there.

He took a few moments to find composure, after all, couldn’t hide forever. Jon heard his footsteps before he recognized that he was headed down the steps to meet his family.

They didn’t see him coming. Arya was wide eyed staring up at the wall with awe, the braided bun in the back of her head messy from riding all day. Lord Commander Mormont was occupying Daenerys and his father. “You, my dear,” Jon overheard Mormont say, hands on his waist looking down at Daenerys, “might get lost amongst the snow.”

Jon had his eyes locked on her as he approached, thinking how she really did blend in.

Mormont was the first one to notice that Jon was standing behind them. “There you are. I was about to send a brother go and find you.”

Jon peered around at the men on horseback who were stepping down. “What are you doing here?”

“I begged father to come!” piped in Arya, pushing past them all, proud smile displayed for all to see. She threw her arms out and Jon kneeled down to her height to hug her. Arya gave a small squeeze before she pulled away. “He _finally_ said yes, but only if Dany came to make sure I didn’t get into any trouble.”

Jon thought that nothing could keep Arya out of trouble. She was always up to something mischievous, being quite the rebel.

Daenerys stepped forward next and extended her glove covered hands out to throw her arms around Jon’s neck, reeling him in. He met her embrace and it required Jon to pull her close, Dany pressing against him as she hugged. He turned his head slightly to the right, able to smell the scent of her hair—the smell of home mixed with something sweet. A tingling sensation flickered through his stomach until she pulled away.

His father stepped forward next. “You look well.”

“What’s going on?” Jon inquired again, trying to search his father’s face for any clues. The Warden of the North didn’t simply just show up to the Night’s Watch for no reason, and certainly not just to visit Jon.

“Let’s talk in private.” Ned grabbed his arm and towed him into a corner away from the rest. “There’s been reports from beyond the wall,” he said grimly.

Jon was concerned by how it looked as if there had not been a lot of sleep for Ned recently, there being a deep-set bluish black color under his eyes, and it made Jon uneasy. “What kind of reports? I haven’t heard anything.”

“White walkers.”

Jon pulled away as if he had been slapped across the face. “Impossible.”

“It seems that it might not be. Lord Mormont wants answers. Benjen is First Ranger. Tomorrow he and a number of brothers are headed beyond the wall to investigate the reports and I am also going with some of the northern soldiers. If these reports have any truth to them, we need to be ready and Robert will only trust my word on something like this.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jon fiercely offered, ready to take action.

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no,” he told Jon firmly.

Jon shied away and he stopped pressing about the issue. His father had given his final decision and nothing good would come of trying to convince him otherwise.

He heard Arya giggle off in the other side of the courtyard. Daenerys had picked her up and placed her on top of a wooden barrel so she could see around better. They were both giggling at something that Arya had said. Daenerys had thrown her head back in laughter, the end of her braid hitting the small of her back and it instinctively made Jon smile at the sight.

The moment was ruined when Jon glanced around at all the attention the two had attracted, most of the focus being on Daenerys. He didn’t even realize that his hands had balled into fists at this side until he felt the pressure of his fingertips causing trauma to his palms.

“Why did you bring them?” Jon questioned, his tone too bitter to go unnoticed. “It’s no place for girls here. Some of the men here they—they’ve done terrible things, terrible things to women and…”

“That’s why the guards are here.” Ned pointed to the seven men from Winterfell that accompanied them, all in armor with the House Stark sigil and adorned with swords and stern expressions. “They’ll be staying here with Arya and Daenerys while I’m gone, and I expect you’ll watch over them as well.”

“Did they have to come?”

“Let’s face it, Arya would not forgive me if I went without her. She has always wanted to see the wall. It was all she could talk about for days. Besides, they both wanted to see you. Your presence has been missed dearly by those two, more so than your brothers, I believe.”

Jon felt a twinge of guilt stab him in the stomach. It had been hard to leave, especially watching the light drain out of Daenerys and Arya’s eyes as he had said quick goodbyes.

“Not a word about the White Walkers to either of them or anyone else, do you understand?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

—

Supper was served early because of the new guests being hosted at Castle Black who had been riding all the way north since early dawn. Jon took his usual seat with Edd to his left, with Sam, Pyp, and Grenn across the table from him, all with their bowls of something they probably didn’t want to know what all was in it. Arya was stuck over in a corner table with the guards where their father could make sure she was actually going to eat all her supper and not hide the food she didn’t want up her sleeve until she could get rid of it like she had done countless times before.

Jon’s eyes searched around discreetly for Daenerys, noticing she wasn’t at the same table with Arya. As he turned his head to his right, his eyes caught sight the white cloak swinging his way as Daenerys took the spot next to him, sitting close. She gave him her usual warm smile. With her next to him, he suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

His friends had stopped talking, all eyes on Daenerys, and Sam had halted his hand midair with a spoonful of the soup, mouth hanging open. He wanted to yell at them to stop staring but withheld.

“Hi,” greeted Dany, looking around at boys that Jon called friends, who she had realized were all unapologetically gawking at her.

He knew what they were all thinking— _was she real?_ —among probably several variations of much cruder thoughts.

After a moment of pause, Jon stepped in, voice gruff with irritation. “Are you going to introduce yourselves or keep looking like idiots?”

They went around and gave names.

“Good to meet you all,” she answered. “Who is that?”

Jon looked up and saw the seething look Ser Allister was giving him from another table. Jon ducked his head back down. “Oh, that’s Ser Allister Thorne.”

“Why does it look like he wants to gut you?”

“He hates me.”

Daenerys gave a look of shock. “How could anyone hate you?”

Sam piped in with a defense, keeping his voice down so no one overheard. “It’s ridiculous. Jon is the most noble and kind man I’ve ever met.”

Jon felt uncomfortable with the praise until Dany chirped back in, placing a caring touch to his arm. “I agree.”

When she rubbed the small part of his arm up and down twice as encouragement, Jon dropped his eyes to her hand and then locked eyes with Daenerys. It was amazing how the simplest of touches could send him into another world. She didn’t even glance away, just watched him watching her as if there wasn’t a room full of people surrounding them.

Unfortunately, there _was_ a room full of people surrounding them.

The tension was building and Jon sensed that they were looking at each other for too long, too intensely, and it would not go unnoticed by his fellow brothers. He broke the eye contact and cleared his throat in an attempt to diminish the amount of desire that had risen in him.

Daenerys moved some chunks in her bowl around with her spoon, not bothered by the brief electricity they had experienced. Her supper was so far untouched. “What is in this?”

Edd leaned so that he could see Daenerys, a grim expression taking over. “We don’t ask. Best not to think much of it.”

She stared down at the bowl, a new wave of uncertainty hitting. She looked around to see the rest of them scarfing down the mystery meal, but she clearly was not wanting to venture into the unknown territory of Castle Black cooking. Jon eyed the debate going on inside her head—to force down the supper and ignore that taste or to wait until morning.

He picked up the piece of bread he had grabbed and handed it over to her. She shook her head at first but it became clear that he wasn’t going to relent and let her go to bed without eating, so she took it gracefully, placed it on her lap and started to pick it apart before biting down. Daenerys shot him a thankful look.

Pyp drummed the muddy tips of his fingers against the table. He wasn’t one that enjoyed the silence. “So, what should we talk about, then?”

“Nothing perverted,” Edd warned, shooting a look across the table.

“Edd! You’re making us look like animals,” complained Pyp. “We are capable of a normal conversation.” Pyp looked thoughtful for a moment before his eyes widened. “Dragons! Let’s talk about them.”

Sam pulled away. “Can you not yell right into my ear. I’m right bloody here.”

Pyp ignored him entirely and kept going. “What? Targaryens are known for dragons and we’ve got a Targaryen right here. I heard they were monstrous beasts,” Pyp continued, very involved in what he was saying, almost not even present as he rambled on. Jon had never seen him so enthralled by his own words. “All I’m saying is I’d like to see a dragon. Wouldn’t all of you?”

Grenn chuckled to himself, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.  “I’d like to see you shit your pants when you see a dragon.”

The two has a brief scuffle over the matter, a couple jabs exchanged and a bump to the table before they went back to eating.

“Just shut up, both of you,” scolded Edd. “Shouldn’t be talking like that in front of the lady.”

“Sorry,” they both mumbled at the same time.

Daenerys inquired about their backgrounds, where they came from, what their families were like, how they ended up at the wall, and so forth. They were all way more interested in her though, asking about the Mad King and the things that were rumored that he had done, to which Dany became rigid next to him and Jon felt the instant need to protect her. He managed to keep his brothers—mainly Grenn and Pyp who lacked a filter with their words—at bay if their own questions became too intrusive.

When Daenerys got up to leave, Jon should have known that he would be confronted about her.

“Fine woman she is,” remarked Grenn with a smug smile, who had lifted up off the bench to take a look as she sauntered off and out the building. Jon reached across and swatted him with more force than what was necessary. “Ouch!” he complained.

“As beautiful as they come,” countered Edd, and Sam agreed with him. Edd pointed his piece of bread at Jon. “And you grew up with her? How’d you keep your hands to yourself?”

“I hate you all,” Jon sneered, not meaning it, but wanting to get his point across.

Grenn laughed wildly. “Aye, maybe he _didn’t_ keep his hands off of her. Look. He’s even blushing.”

“I’m not blushing and I’ve never touched her,” Jon defended swiftly, keeping his voice down.

Pyp nudged Grenn, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Bet he wanted to.”

Jon glared at the pair sitting across from him before he abruptly got up and headed for the door. He heard them call after him that they were only joking, but Jon abandoned the hall anyways. He needed some air.

_Bet he wanted to._

They were right.

_—_

He was wandering around outside with nothing to do, but felt the need to keep busy. Everyone was still in eating supper and enjoying the faintly warmer climate the fires provided, but his thoughts were going too fast for him to keep up with and Jon needed some time alone.

His feelings had become complicated in an unexpected way.

In a dangerous way.

And yet, it seemed every time he contemplated Daenerys, she manifested before him.

“There you are.” She snuck up behind him, grabbing his hand and bouncing in a giddy manner. “Will you take me up there?” Dany smiled brightly and pointed to the wall.

Jon glanced up. “I don’t think I’m allowed to take you.”

“No one is around.” She pointed out the empty courtyard. Daenerys then entwined her arm around his as they walked side by side, her directing him towards the iron cage that ran the vertical length of the wall. “Jon,” she complained. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

He sighed.

As if he could tell her no.

He gave his fellow brother a look as if to say _if you mention this to anyone you know you’re going to regret it_ as he entered the cage and helped Daenerys is as well.

They were about halfway up when Dany started to inspect. “Is it supposed to make that noise?”

Jon listened to the rickety clanking of the of the contraption being wheeled upward. He brushed it off with a, “It always does that.”

Daenerys poked her fingers through the metal and stepped towards the edge to look down to where they once were. Jon instinctively reached out and grabbed her cloak, pulling her backwards. “Don’t,” he ordered.

“Why?”

Jon sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s dangerous.”

“Fine,” she huffed, staying in the place he pulled her back to. “So, do they really make you swear off girls?”

Jon laughed. “Sounds a bit silly, but, yes. I think most of the men here aren’t too happy about that, but at least for me, I can’t miss something I’ve never had,” he said back, absentmindedly.

_“Really?_ ” she said with such disbelief that Jon became heightened with embarrassment.

His eyebrows furrowed. “What? It’s not as if I went with Theon to the brothel every other night after the sun went down?” he scoffed.

Daenerys shrugged delicately.

“I’m seventeen. It’s not that uncommon.”

She giggled at him, turning her head over her shoulder, long braid swinging. “You don’t need to defend yourself, Jon, it’s not as if I’ve ever had anyone. I’m not judging.”

“Oh,” he concluded, and averted his gaze.

They remained quiet the rest of the way to the top, the wind being a sufficient enough noise to block out the embarrassment Jon had experienced. On their arrival, Jon pushed open the gates, holding them for her to walk out. He led the way down the path that was always lit with flickering torches and picked out the best—and sturdiest—vantage point.

“Don’t fall off the edge,” he teased her, waving for her to go in that direction for the reveal.

Jon watched as she drew closer to the edge, admittedly, with a little concern. He even took a few steps himself to make sure he was close enough if he needed to grab her.  

“Wow,” breathed out Daenerys with wonder. She expressed her astonishment with a girlish giggle that sent warmth right through him. “Beautiful.”

“Yes,” said Jon, though he wasn’t referring to the land beyond the wall.

Dany stood watching the snow blow against the trees for a minute until she turned back around, hands clasping together in front of her. “Not so pretty down there though.” She nodded her head back the way they came. “This place is dark and lonely. And you want to stay _here_? Why?” she demanded.

_Dark and lonely_ —a reflection of himself.

“Why?” she asked again, even more forceful.

Truth was, in her presence, he couldn’t quite remember any of the reasons.

Daenerys stepped closer. “Come back to Winterfell,” she whispered, hands extending out towards him as if she were going to cup his face.  

He caught her hands by the wrist before she could, cautious that her touch might convince him. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “I can’t.”

Jon swallowed hard as he watched Daenerys’s eyes glaze over. “You don’t belong here.”

“Where do I belong then?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it before any words came out that either of them were not ready to he heard out loud. Instead, she decided to allude to something else. “You should know what you’re missing out on before you decide,” she boldly told him. Daenerys stepped forward and he backed away until he hit the wall of ice carved out behind him. Her gaze was so powerful that Jon could hardly keep his composure. She looked like some kind of snow princess in a tale sung about by children in meadows.

His grasp on her wrist loosened and she was free. Daenerys grabbed the ties of the clasp of the cloak and lifted onto her toes, the boots she wore not enough to get her to his height. Jon was locked into place as she inched further, the speckles of amber in her eyes now visible, with a rosy color splashed across her pale cheeks.

Jon gave in, weakness extending out its claws and snatching him.

He bent his head down and Daenerys caught his lips, eyes closing. He could have sworn that everything else in the world seized to exist in that moment. Jon snaked his hands to her waist. Her lips were so soft and molded against his perfectly.

She put more force behind the kiss, Jon returning the intensity.

One of his hands slipped from her waist to the small of her back, then further down until he squeezed the curve of her ass. Her figure pressed against his at the same time, more than ever before, and Jon gave a wolf-like whimper into her mouth in between kisses.

He might have been in disbelief about an action so bold, but there were no logical thoughts that were able to form.

He might not have been able to remember his own name if asked in that instance.

Her body overwhelmed him—the idea of him being inside her nearly pushed him off the deep end. The impure fantasies rose to the surface to torture him further. Jon wanted so badly to bury into her and never return.

It was almost too late before they realized what the sound coming towards them was.

Footsteps.

Daenerys pulled away with a gasp, turning to face the snowy abyss. Jon knocked his head up against the wall right as a figure rounded the corner.

“Uncle Benjen,” Jon managed to choke out, having trouble regaining his breath.

Of all the times for someone to wander up to the wall, it _would_ be at that point in time. Benjen gave him a once over look of confusion before turning his head towards Daenerys, who innocently turned to greet him with a wide smile.

“Lady Daenerys,” he greeted, the former confusion draining from his face momentarily. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Daenerys was clever enough to pretend like she hadn’t just kissed Jon so deeply that he had gotten hard in a matter of seconds. She moved a few stray pieces of hair out of her face and shrugged nonchalantly. “I begged Jon to take me up here. With all the talk of what is beyond the wall, I wanted to see for myself.” She glanced over at Jon. “He couldn’t deny the request.”

Benjen grinned. “You might just be the first woman to ever walk the on top of the wall,” he remarked. “But you should be getting back, the both of you. The night is almost here and—”

“I’m going to stay a bit longer,” Jon declared in a panic. The thought of having to go down the side of the wall alone with Daenerys was too great of a challenge.

Both Benjen and Daenerys side eyed him but he didn’t make eye contact with either of them, only turned his head to the side to keep watch. There was a moment of silence where Benjen and Dany must have exchanged a look and Benjen offered to take her back down to the castle. Jon could hear their footsteps as they walked off down the pathway. The urge to tilt his head back and watch her leave was eating away at him, but Jon couldn’t bring himself to do it.


	3. Home

It was snowing again, a harsh storm blowing through, rattling the castle. At times, it was hard to see even fifteen feet in front of Jon’s face. It was simply white everywhere. The winds were so strong that anyone who didn’t need to be outside shouldn’t be, orders given by the Lord Commander. Jon, however, was outside since he volunteered to help several other of the Night’s Watch brothers gather materials for the expedition the following morning.

“I’m leaving at first light,” Benjen explained as he approached, eyes squinted so the snow didn’t blow into them. “We’ll be gone a long while.”

Jon nodded along as he continued to fasten supplies into a carrier to be brought beyond the wall.

“Are you planning on taking your vows before I return?”

If there had ever been a time to roll his eyes, it was then. Jon kicked at some chunks of ice that had fallen off the roof, it going skidding across the way until it hit a wall of stone. “I don’t think Mormont is concerned about that right now.”

Benjen put on his riding gloves, content with the answer. “Aye.”

They began walking over to the stables where the horses where being tended to and prepared for the morning trek across the frozen land. As they made their way, Jon caught a glimpse of Daenerys’s light hair before she disappeared along the walkway to another section of Castle Black. Though she wasn’t there anymore, Jon’s gaze lingered.

“It’s not a crime, boy,” Benjen stated, picking up on Jon’s scrutiny.

He turned his head back, knowing that there was no way of trying to hide it. “Feels like one,” Jon murmured towards the ground.

“You’re not a member of the Night’s Watch yet,” he continued, “and you’ve still got time to figure out what all might be going on under all that hair of yours.”

Jon closed his eyes and shook his head. He was really tired of hearing the same speech. “I already told you—”

Benjen glared at him, coming to a stop, and interrupted Jon. “But now you have an idea of what you’re giving up and what you’re leaving behind.” A strong hand landed on his shoulder and Benjen’s grip forced Jon to look him in the eye. “You’ll think about her every day. You’ll miss her every day. The thought of her with another will drive you mad every now and again. You’re young now and you’re not thinking about possibilities. As the years pass you might find yourself wondering what it would be like to have little ones running around you calling you their father and a woman by your side. Don’t make a haste decision. Nothing good ever comes of them.”

“I get it. You’re intent on having me wait,” Jon stated, raising his voice, though he felt guilty about yelling at his uncle who was only trying to help and advise him the best he could. “I admit it, I’m confused. Are you happy about it?”

Benjen released the grip on Jon’s shoulder, a sterner look taking over his face. “All I want is for you to not run away from your problems.”

Jon turned away so Benjen wouldn’t see the way his eyes started to take on water. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and pretended as if it were the wind bothering his eyes. “Have you ever loved a woman, Uncle Benjen?”

He shook his head, almost with regret. “No.” He started to walk away, only to turn his head over his shoulder and call back to Jon, “You’ll have to tell me what it’s like one day.”

—

When Jon didn’t see Daenerys wandering about the rest of the day, he went in search of her and found her in the library. It was a dingy place down there, even with the fire burning and the candles lit dimly. Yet, there she was, huddled over some books as the candle wax melted onto the old table before her, a clue she had been there a while.

“Ah,” Maester Aemon exclaimed, lifting up his head slowly. “Jon Snow.”

“Maester Aemon,” he greeted from the bottom of the stairwell, “how did you know it was me?”

The old man had his eyes wandering about in no specific way. “When you’re as blind as me, you can identify the way that the brothers walk after some time. I can tell them apart without them speaking nowadays.”

Maester Aemon leaned in and whispered something to Daenerys that Jon couldn’t hear. He then excused himself out of the library, but not before gently squeezing Daenerys’s hand. He said his goodnights and Jon waited until the footsteps up the stairs vanished, which due to his old age, took a longer time than normal.

“What did he say to you?”

Daenerys picked up and book that looked too big in her hands and put it back on the shelf. “He said you walk like you’re mad at the world. That’s how he knows it’s you.”

Jon wrinkled his nose but bit his tongue about any kind of response to that. “What are you doing down here?”

“What are _you_ doing down here? Come to find me?”

“Yes.”

Daenerys leaned against the table. “Well, you’ve found me.” The way she worded it was rather cold and distant. “Did you need something?”

Jon dropped his heads towards the floor, pivoting his heels, unable to stand still. “I wanted to apologize for earlier when I stayed up at the wall. I didn’t know what to say.”

Daenerys turned her back on him and began loading some books back onto a shelf. Jon wasn’t great at picking up on signals but it was evident that he had hurt her. That was the worst part, too, knowing he had done something to affect her in such a way.

“We shouldn’t,” he finally said. “We can’t.”

“Seemed like you enjoyed it to me,” she commented in a velvety tone.

Jon inhaled deeply, biting at his lip. It was no lie, he had enjoyed it. But she could never be his. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, northern accent coming through thickly.

She came to a standstill facing him, showing confusion. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m a bastard,” he exhaled, fiercely, irritated that she didn’t understand, but mostly irritated at the circumstances, “and you’re Daenerys Targaryen. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful woman who has ever lived. You’re highborn. I’m sure some lord will come along one day and—”

“Some lord?” She made a disgusted face, as if his words were the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said. “What lord would want the daughter of the Mad King? What lord would ever think of telling Robert Baratheon that he intended to marry _me_? If your father hadn’t taken me in I probably would have been murdered by some assassin of Robert’s. Have you really not thought this through? Whatever fairytale ending you envision me having of being the lady of a castle somewhere is never going to happen. I know this. I’ve accepted it.” Daenerys drew a breath and continued, standing up taller. “I’ll most likely spend the rest of my life at Winterfell. For a little while there I was thinking that we— _nevermind_ , it doesn’t matter.”

Daenerys tried to walk past him to go back up the stairway, but he grabbed her waist to stop her in her tracks, his heart unable to let her go despite his mind telling him to. “Don’t walk off.”

“Why? You’ve clearly made your decision.” She had fire in her eyes as she spoke. And that fiery side making an appearance only made him want her more. “I’m an outsider just as much as you. In a different way, but still an outsider. You might not see it that way, but I do. Now, get out of my way so I can go to my chambers.”

Jon let her pull out of his grasp. She took a couple steps back and grabbed a lantern to take with her. He would have let her leave, but she took the lantern by the middle where it would be the hottest and picked it up. “Don’t!” he yelled, recognizing the danger, rushing forward to knock the lantern out of her hand. It fell to the ground, clanking as the metal hit the stone, hot wax hardening upon contact with the stone floor.

Her eyes went to the mess. “Jon!” she scolded him.

Jon ignored her and grabbed her hand and see what the damage was, only to find that her skin remained perfect. No burn marks, no redness of aching skin. Jon dragged his thumb over her palm, mystified.

“But…how?”

Daenerys closed her fingers around his thumb. “Dragons are not hurt by fire.”

He felt the pull towards her, the hook that had been latched onto his heart. Jon cupped her face and pulled her close, just as they were on the wall. Only there in the darkness of the secluded library, Jon pushed her back until she bumped into the wall made of stone, not ice.

Every part of him screamed for her.

He kissed her mouth again, not slow or steady, but wild and impatient. He wanted to consume her. Not what he had intended to do upon his arrival to the library, but every time he tried to push her away, something inside Jon found a reason to find his way back.

His body took over, all thoughts neutralizing.

Jon bent down, slid his hands under her dress until they fell under her kneecaps, settling right above. He picked her up with ease, evoking a small, surprised gasp from Daenerys, and he wedged himself in between her spread legs, pining her.

With her being more level with his face, Jon allowed his tongue to run along her neck before he planted more kisses there, leaving a trail. Daenerys shoved a hand into his hair, raking her nails against his scalp that only made him suck at her skin with more force.

Jon wanted one of those red bruises to appear. He wanted to be able to look at it come morning and know what it was him who had marked her.

“Jon.” She grazed his ear with her bottom lip, making a shiver creep down his spine. “Do you want me?”

His breath released against her neck. “Daenerys,” he warned, not sure if he would be able to stop himself.

“Tell me.”

Jon opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps once again disrupted them. There was the clanking of metal—the sound of armor. It was a guard searching for Daenerys.

Jon placed her gently back down onto the ground before the guard entered the room, relieved to see that she was safe with Jon. There was a brief moment of suspicion that crossed his face, noting the lantern on the floor, but he must have thought better of asking about it and continued to address Daenerys.

“Lady Daenerys,” he greeted without the hint of joy, “I’m here to escort you and Lady Arya to your chambers.”

Arya poked her head around the corner, peering in with curiosity. She was so light on her feet, neither of them had realized that she was following behind the guard. “We are being quarantined to our rooms until morning,” she complained, rolling her eyes upward dramatically.

Daenerys nodded and walked past Jon, turning partway to wish him a well-rested night, before she followed Arya up the steps, followed by the guard.

Alone again, Jon let his head fall to the side and whack the wooden bookcase.

—

He lied in bed face up staring at the ceiling. Ghost was asleep in the corner of his courters, body tucked in tight, breathing heavy, as he was fast asleep. Jon often wondered what it would be like to be a direwolf—to have no responsibilities, to be able to run free. He remembered fondly how he found the wolf pup and claimed him as his own. It was the first time that Jon felt as if something was truly his and no one else’s.

There in his bed, Jon wanted to fall asleep but he knew the moment his eyes shut, all he would be able to see was the face of Daenerys. She had worked herself into his subconscious and he would dream of her most nights, without fail. The dreams mostly consisted of them being back in the godswood at Winterfell, just the two of them alone.

That was all before what had happened on the wall and in the library. His dreams would surely be more torturous, more enticing, following those interactions.

Jon had kissed her, gotten a taste of her, and one thing was for certain—he was fucked. What a mess he had made for himself.

The small knock at his door as he was mid-thought perked up Ghost. Jon turned his head to the side, a curl falling into his eye, eyebrows furrowing. Who would be knocking at his door this late? He swung his legs off the bed and took the few steps to get towards the knock. As he drew closer to the door, he could feel the uncomfortable cold seeping in. He cringed at the draft before unhinging the latch to the door and opening it halfway.

Oh.

“Dany,” he whispered. “What in seven hells?”

She had her white cloak that was protecting her frame, snowflakes scattered about in her hair, not even melting as the surrounding air was too frigid. 

Underneath the cloak she was wearing a garment that Jon had never seen. It wasn’t quite a dress, as the material was too thin and tied at the waist. It guessed it was a morning robe that was used before getting dressed. Targaryen red is how he would have described the color, and the color suited her.

He was brought out of a daze when he saw her shiver, bringing the cloak closer to her body. “Get in here. It’s freezing out there.”

Once inside, Jon peered out and down the walkway that lead to his door. He saw no one and nothing but the footprints in the snow that would soon be covered with more flakes, covering any evidence of her arrival.

Jon closed the door and latched it hastily, too much coldness having already slipped in. “Is something wrong?” His mind immediately went to the worst possibilities and he tensed up. “Did one of the brothers do something, say something?”

“No,” she dismissed, dusting off the snowflakes, “of course not. They would lose their head by a guard if they did, you know that.”

He scoffed at the idea. The guards would probably have to hold Jon back if anyone had touched Daenerys or even looked at her a funny way.

“How did you get past the guards?”

She looked proud. “Don’t you remember me telling you that I’m sneaky?”

“I wish you wouldn’t leave them. Something bad could have happened.”

She placed her hands onto his chest and scratched her nails against the jerkin he was wearing. “You don’t want me here?”

Daenerys knew what the answer would be, and as clarity washed over him, Jon did as well.

“I want you here.”

In the corner, Ghost had fallen back asleep already, and that time he was sprawled out against the floor, face tilted towards the low fire burning.

Daenerys undid her cloak, no longer needing it, and let it slip to the floor. There was an unspoken understanding between them of what was about to happen. Jon could feel his heart beat increase.

He brushed her shoulders as they stepped closer together. Jon’s nose grazed her own before she lifted to catch his lips.

It was tender that time. Jon extended his arm around her to keep them steady as she moved him back across the room.

Daenerys pushed him down back into the feather bed filled with furs, into the position he had been in before she came knocking. All he could do was watch her as she pulled the bottom part of her robe up near her ankles and set her knees down on the bed, pulling the material with her, throwing her leg on the other side of him. Daenerys’s palms flattened against his chest as she got situated, lowering onto his groin. Jon exhaled sharply, even though there was still layers of clothes between them.

His eyes were trained on the tie at her waist when Dany started to undo the knot. The material slipped through her fingers and she pulled it away from her body. Her breasts bounced as Daenerys adjusted her position and he felt himself harden underneath her.

She was fire.

His eyes flickered between hers and the newly exposed skin. Dany grabbed his hands and placed them onto her breasts that fit so perfectly in his palms, squeezing at the weight. His mouth parted, no longer able to keep a steady pace of breath.

Daenerys bent over to kiss him again, Jon letting his hands spread out against her bare back.

He was not able to lay still for long.

When Dany pulled back up to look at him, Jon tucked a stray piece of long waved hair behind her ear. _Gods_ , she was so beautiful—and so naked.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Jon shot up into a sitting position. He cupped her ass and pushed her back into the bed so he was on top of her having her pinned beneath him, unable to handle the temptation. Jon was ripping off his clothes as fast as he could, hearing several tears in the seams. Daenerys pushed off his shirt and he went for the laces of his trousers, fingers too shaky too get them off in one fluid movement. Once he got them down past his ass, Daenerys was able to shift the rest of the way down with her feet. Once off and there was nothing left between them, she widened her legs and Jon settled between her.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, excitement and nervousness building.

Jon understood the mechanics of sex—what went where—but there was a big difference in hearing about it and then having a woman naked underneath him. And it wasn’t just any woman, it was Daenerys Targaryen.

Jon propped himself up on an elbow as he kissed her and let his hand drop in between them, fingers sliding down to do where he felt the wetness coming from. He was surprised by the slickness. Wanting to explore the newfound area more, Jon rubbed her there before inching a finger inside. Daenerys arched up her back into him, lower stomach brushing his cock, and he gave a low grunt in response.

“I want you,” he breathed against her neck, finally admitting what he could no longer deny. “I want you so much.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Then have me,” she whispered back, a small quiver to her voice.

He was searching her eyes deeply when realized that despite her outward appearance of confidence, she was nervous as well. The playing field was level.

 “Daenerys,” he said, full of lust, it almost sounding like a confession.

“ _Jon_.”

Daenerys gasped when he entered her, legs looked around him, Jon realizing he had been too eager and went too fast. He understood then that the intrusion must have been a shock to her system. He stayed still as she adjusted, teeth gritted, because his body was screaming at him to keep going.

The tiniest of movement from her made Jon feel as though he might explode. His eyes widened in shock at how good it felt. Being inside her was much tighter than he could have imagined, much warmer, and wetter.

He took ahold of her hip to keep steady one she urged him to keep going.

Jon broke the kiss momentarily to get into a rhythm, pulling away and then pushing his hips back to hers. Resting his head next to hers, his face hung down, eyes watching as her breasts bounced with every thrust. Damn, did that drive Jon mad.

He had to pick up his pace.

She made this wildly sharp moan right next to his ear and Jon lost it completely. He needed to hear that again, as many times as he could. His hips pulled back further before entering her with a little more force than before, desperate. Daenerys tightened her grip on his shoulder, one hand lowered to his side where her nails dug into him, making marks in his skin. Not as if he cared. Daenerys could mark him up as much as she wanted to.

He wanted it to last forever—just the two of them there in that bed.

But all great things come to an end and Jon felt himself starting to spiral. All the built up tension, all the pining and wanting, and it all collided at the same time. Jon jerked into Daenerys one last time before he fell apart, a noise he never heard before escaping out of his mouth and onto her neck where his head then nuzzled against her.

Jon collapsed and Daenerys held his full weight on her, drawing circles on his back.

He loved her.

He knew she loved him too. She wouldn’t have fought for him if she hadn’t.

For the first time, he realized that Daenerys was the one thing that eased any pain he might be feeling—that she healed the open wounds on his heart.

He felt whole, complete.

—

As it turned out, White Walkers were real after all. Ned rallied Robert’s forces to the wall and they waited, it not being wise to seek them out. Waiting for them was better.

A lot of soldiers died in that war.

A lot of the Night’s Watch died, even Grenn and Pyp. They were there and then they weren’t—a harsh reality that left its own scar on Jon.

Jon had never seen so much blood before, so much death, so much chaos. Jon, alongside Robb, ended up in battle coming face to face with wights. They were terrifying things with their glowing eyes and flesh melting off, but both brothers were skilled enough to fight them off with receiving only minor injuries.

The Night King died, somehow, some way, but no one really trusted that he was gone for good. Robert sent up several thousand men so each castle along the wall was guarded. For the first time in centuries, it was properly manned with sworn brothers.

Jon was not one of them.

Despite his initial desire to swear to the Night’s Watch, he was unable to give up the love of Daenerys, especially after what he had seen.

Giving one last look at Ser Allister was almost a gift from the Gods.

His arrival back at Winterfell made him feel a twinge of disappointment in himself, but all he had to do was look at Daenerys and he would know that the decision was the best one he had ever made for himself.

It was such a foreign feeling—happiness. It only grew over the years.

He had never thought much of having kids in the future until Daenerys happened but Jon hoped any children they might have would grow up side by side with Robb’s.

They married but not until Jon had reached twenty years of age. The image of her in a white wedding dress as the snow fell around her as she was walking towards him would forever be burned into his memory as one of the best days in his life.

She was his and he was hers.

Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left me comments and kudos or simply just read the story! I enjoyed writing this so much that I have another Winterfell based AU coming out soon so check back in the coming weeks for that.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this alternate timeline three part story in mind for a while now and I had to write it down (of course while I'm working on another smut fic because I can't stop writing jon/dany)


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